


If I Lose Myself

by dizzy



Category: caaron - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-21 19:18:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/903895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/pseuds/dizzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carson doesn't get struck my lightning. He does get slapped in the face with reality, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If I Lose Myself

The lightning bolt doesn't kill Carson, it just scares him within an inch of his life. 

It's so close he can see the spot of black earth where it hit. He's surprised his shorts aren't full from the shock it's given him. He can even smell it in the air, crisp and electric. 

If he'd taken one more step. If he'd been walking a little faster-

He'd be dead. 

But he's not. 

* 

Carson forever credits his brush with death for giving him the motivation he needed to get out of Clover. 

He didn't get into Northwestern that first year, but he still moved to Chicago. He got a job flipping burgers and pizzas and hated every moment of it but a semester of dogging the footsteps of an admissions counselor and slipping samples of his writing into her inbox every moment he got earned him her eternal irritation and a spot reserved all for him in the hallowed halls of the university classrooms. 

He takes too many credits his first semester and finds out that smart for Clover is average, at best, for this school. He almost fails and he discovers in himself certain things; like that failure motivates him, like he does his best work under pressure. He discovers that fighting is what makes him feel alive and he joins the university debate team. It fits him like a second home. He's good at public speaking but somehow even better at writing for others. 

He loves the newspaper, loves his journalism classes, but he loves the power that comes with putting words in other people's mouths even more. 

* 

Carson has tried sex. 

He dates a moderately physically attractive and insanely intelligent, confident woman his second year of college. It takes him almost a month to realize that he's awestruck by her brain and not her body. He can get up, and he can perform, and her body isn't exactly unappealing... but it's really something he can take or leave. He doesn't sit around drooling over tits or cute asses. 

When he breaks up with her, she cries. He watches this woman that he's seen rip the argument of a professor apart at the seams without batting an eyelash cry - for him. He feels helpless, apologetic, but not really regretful. 

It's an unpleasant feeling. He doesn't date much after that. 

* 

Carson is one semester away from graduating when he meets Aaron.

They meet in a coffee shop - not a cute cliche, but an angry encounter because Carson's having a shitty day and this limpdick barista with his lame hair fucked up his coffee order and he might not have time to wait for another one but he does have time for the catharsis of lashing out at someone that probably doesn't even deserve it. 

Aaron stands there patiently through Carson's entire tirade and points to the clock. "You're heading to class, right? You've got like four minutes to get where you're going."

"Fuck!" Carson turns and practically runs out the door. 

* 

Three more days pass. 

Carson goes to a different coffee shop. Not out of embarrassment. He doesn't have anything to be embarrassed about. He just doesn't want to have to deal with the gross incompetence at the other place. 

Then he steps out of his poli sci course and there's the barista, leaning against the wall with a cup in one hand and his phone in the other. When the footsteps of the dozens of people leaving the lecture reach his ears he looks up, putting the phone away. 

Carson has a moment of deja vu, where instinct is avoidance. He stares ahead and walks past the guy. 

The guy says, "Carson!" in a clear voice. 

Carson stops and turns around, angry without being sure why. "Are you talking to me?" 

The guy has a grin on his face, stupidly bright and out of place in the staid hallway. "Yes, you - Carson, right?" 

"How do you know my name?" Carson demands. "Oh my god, are you stalking me?" 

"No, I'm replacing your coffee." His smile flickers just a little bit but then comes back stronger. "Venti mocha with an extra shot of espresso and no whip. It should still be plenty warm, I made it like five minutes ago and then walked here straight here. I'm Aaron, by the way." 

"I don't want that," Carson snaps. 

"Yes, you do. You're cranky. Coffee would help... you know it..." Aaron holds the cup out again. "Come on. Take it." 

Fuck that asshole and his stupid smirk. 

Carson takes the coffee and walks away. 

* 

He only goes back to Aaron's coffee shop because the other one is sub-par. 

(They're not, really, but he needs an excuse.) 

* 

Aaron greets him like an old friend. "Carson! Same as last time?" 

"Yes," Carson says. "And I still want to know how you knew my name." 

"Oh yeah?" Aaron looks up at him, his smile a little different in a way Carson can't really put a finger on. "How badly?" 

"What?" 

"I'll tell you over dinner." 

Carson's stomach does the strangest little flip. "You can't just tell me now?" 

"Nope," Aaron says, then turns his back to Carson to make the drink. "My shift here is over at seven. There's a deli across the street, we can meet there." 

"Seven," Carson repeats, mostly just to make sure that he heard right.

Aaron is smiling brightly now when he turns back to Carson, sliding the drink across the counter. "I wrote my number on the cup just in case." 

"In case of _what_?" Carson asks. 

Aaron shrugs. "In case you blow me off then feel inexplicably guilty later." 

* 

Carson blows him off. 

And then feels guilty later. 

* 

To Aaron: I had a study group that ran late.  
To Carson: Who is this?  
To Aaron: Do you give your number out to that many people?!  
To Aaron: You know what, never mind. This is no one.  
To Carson: Wait - you wouldn't happen to be my favorite sarcastic hot guy from the coffee shop would you?  
To Aaron: Did you just call me hot?  
To Carson: I only speak the truth.  
To Aaron: Fuck you.  
To Carson: Whoa. What kind of button did I just push there?  
To Carson: Hey, Carson, I'm sorry. Whatever I said, sorry.  
To Aaron: I don't like being made fun of by people whose hourly wage is less than the number of course hours I'm taking this semester.  
To Carson: Damn.  
To Carson: Well then.  
To Carson: I meant it, for what it's worth. I wasn't making fun of you. 

* 

Carson stares at his phone for a long time. 

The thing is, he might still be the same person on the outside but the layers of defense don't go quite as deep as they used to. There's more bubbling up to the surface, he's quicker to forgive and understand, he's even made some friends. 

Not close ones, but still - friends. 

College has taught him some empathy, and some kindness. He understands his own strengths and weaknesses more, and understands that he doesn't always need to overcompensate for those weaknesses as much as he grew up thinking he needed to. 

It takes about three days for him to work up the courage to apologize. He does, though. It plagues him. He's learned that sometimes the feeling of victory that comes with cutting someone down isn't worth the bad karma you get from ruining their day. Debate has taught him the art of balance; let your response be proportionate to what you're responding to. 

He doesn't know if he ruined Aaron's day, but he does know that his words have more meaning now that he lives in a world full of people intelligent enough to understand the insults for what they are. 

He doesn't want to be the person that brings other people down. Not even this guy. 

*

Carson goes to the coffee shop. 

Aaron sees him, looks surprised, and then smiles. It lacks the sincerity that it held before and Carson realizes that he misses that. It's - guarded, almost. The look someone gets on their face when they're expecting disappointment. 

Carson breathes in deep and utters the two words that have plagued him all his life, those words that always want to get stuck in this throat. He doesn't force himself through this often so he hopes this is worth it. "I'm sorry." 

Aaron does look appropriately taken aback. "What's that?" 

"I said," Carson swallows hard. "I'm sorry. For blowing you off." 

"Oh? You blew me off? I thought it was that gosh darned study group?" Aaron gives him an out. A very thin one, but the gesture is still there. 

"No, I just decided not to show." Honesty is the best policy. It also keeps the whole risk of getting trapped in lies down to a minimum. "And I'm sorry. I'm also sorry for what I texted you." 

Aaron's smile goes back to normal, just that easily. "Then you can make it up to me." 

That wasn't really part of the plan. "What?" He demands. 

"Dinner. And show up this time." Aaron leans against the counter, arms crossed over it. 

Carson is set to say no, but - 

Aaron thinks he's hot. 

It's not really like Carson cares what someone else thinks of him. He doesn't know if Aaron is gay or just a flirt. He doesn't care what orientation anyone is. He doesn't care who he appears attractive to or not. He's come to terms with his neutrality in this area. 

But - 

Aaron thinks he's hot. And that thought has maybe been in the back of Carson's mind since Aaron actually said it, lingering and festering there. It's the third time in his life he's been hit on by a guy. It's not like he puts himself in situations where that will happen often, but in academia intelligence is sexy and once every few months someone manages to express an interest in him. Carson shuts it down fairly easily and typically before any sort of feelings get hurt. 

He should do that now. He should politely decline, restate his apology, and leave. He should get used to sub-par coffee and not come back here. 

Instead he says, "I'll meet you here at seven." 

* 

Dinner doesn't have to be a date, Carson tells himself, as he picks out his nicest clothes. 

He's made it through three years of college without feeling flustered over dinner with someone that he's not going on a date with. 

He hasn't even felt flustered about the dates he did go on. He approached them all with slight curiosity. 

He picks up his phone three times to make sure that Aaron doesn't think this is a date. 

Why would he?

They don't know each other. 

Aaron knows his coffee order, that's it. And his name. And his phone number. That's all. 

Why would Aaron want to date him if he doesn't know anything about him? 

(Aaron thinks he's hot.)

*

It's a date. 

Definitely a date. 

Aaron is wearing nicer clothes, dark jeans and a robin's egg blue button up with a skinny black tie. He's wearing red converse and it should look ridiculous. Carson would laugh if he saw that outfit on anyone else. 

But it looks good on Aaron, somehow. His hair is short and swept back from his head in a strange little way and his face is clean-shaven. It works. All of it works. He pretends not to notice Aaron's gaze sweeping up and down his own body. It might happen sometimes, but that doesn't mean he's ever gotten used to the feeling of knowing he's being evaluated on basis of his physical appearance. He can usually brush it off, but then again - when it happens he hasn't usually dressed for the other person. He doesn't usually care. 

It raises his hackles a little and he turns sullen out of habit. The drive to the restaurant is full of Aaron's chatter, and questions that Carson barely answers. When they get there Aaron opens the door for him. 

Carson reminds him that he can open doors for himself. 

"I know," Aaron says. "But you've probably opened every other door you've walked through today by yourself. Take a break, you earned it."

He winks at Carson as Carson walks past him. He's a little too crowded-in by people leaving out of the other door, and his shoulder brushes Aaron's chest. 

They sit across from each other at dinner and talk. Carson is surprised by the lack of surprise he feels at how interesting Aaron is. Something is crawling under his skin, some kind of feeling he's never had before. It's not quite attraction, not yet, but it's a certain willingness to be open for it if (when) it does happen. 

He smiles more, he _laughs_ more than he has in a long time. Relaxation is still not a strong point of his but talking to Aaron leaves him feeling loose and untethered in a way that isn't scary. 

When Carson suggests splitting the bill, Aaron shakes his head. "This is your apology, remember? Just be glad I didn't order the steak. I'll get it next time." 

He has a stupid hopeful-puppy look on his face when he says it. 

If he agrees, he's giving Aaron the wrong idea. He's giving Aaron the idea that he might be open to something more than dinner. He's aware enough of social cues to understand that. 

His mouth betrays him again. "Just be warned: I like steak," he says. 

Aaron's face lights up and Carson smiles for no reason besides that. 

Fuck. He's in trouble, isn't he? 

* 

A month in, he has to admit it to himself: 

He's dating Aaron Christopherson. 

At least, he thinks he is. 

They've been out to dinner half a dozen times and met up for lunch or coffee twice as many. Sometimes it isn't even any of those, sometimes it's just some vague undefined thing where they drive somewhere and do nothing. It dawns on Carson that this must be what 'hanging out' with someone is. He's always wondered. He thinks it should annoy him, being in someone's presence with no purpose for it, but with Aaron it doesn't bother him. 

Aaron doesn't mind hanging out with him when Carson's busy, either - which is good, because Carson is busy a lot. He's in his last semester of college and he works part time as a research assistant for a law firm, grunt work and investigating, digging up the details of people's lives through every legally navigable route. He's good at it, he works hard and he's paid well, but until now he's never had days where he'd rather be anywhere else. 

It's why he doesn't mind when Aaron shows up while he's doing homework or writing papers. They order pizza, or sometimes Aaron cooks while Carson works. Sometimes Aaron just sleeps on the couch. Carson becomes insanely fond of the way he looks when he wakes up, hair all mussed and eyes bleary. 

*

Sometimes it goes badly. Sometimes Carson is stressed, but Aaron picks up on when to stay and when to go after only a week or two. Once he pushes Carson past the point of breaking; Carson yells at Aaron, and Aaron just lets him then reaches over and with the tip of one finger shuts Carson's laptop and announces that it's break time. 

"You can't just do that," Carson snaps. "I was writing-" 

"No, you weren't," Aaron says. "You were staring at the screen." 

"I was _thinking_." 

"You were stuck. So we're gonna go grab some food, and you're gonna get some fresh air, and then we'll come back and you can start again and you'll be unstuck."

It works. Carson is so relieved he can't even be pissed. 

* 

There are things that Carson doesn't notice, because Carson has the strange quirk of being observational at a distance and missing the things that are right in front of his face. 

He doesn't notice that Aaron is taking naps more often when he visits. 

He doesn't notice that Aaron eats less when they go out. 

He doesn't notice that Aaron has circles under his eyes or that some days he looks like he hasn't shaved. 

He just doesn't notice.

*

Carson becomes tripped up with the fact that for all he's convinced they really are dating, they're also - not. Because Aaron hasn't really tried anything. 

For the first month, Carson is relieved. He's never navigated the varying levels of intimacy that come with letting someone in, but he's happy to be able to put physical on pause while he concentrates on the emotional aspects.

Until he realizes that he's okay with emotional and suddenly the other stuff rears it's head - at the most awkward of times, when he's watching Aaron bend over to pick up trash someone forgot to throw away, when Aaron sleeps on Carson's couch and his shirt rides up to reveal a slightly hairy stomach, when he licks at ice cream dripping from the cone down his fingers. 

It makes Carson need to shift and squirm and try to school certain parts of his anatomy into behaving appropriately. 

He thinks Aaron wants more, too. Aaron stares at Carson's mouth sometimes, but he's never kissed him. Their fingers brush when they sit beside each other, but Aaron has never held his hand. They're at a standstill, flirtatious but not blunt. 

Carson decides that, for the first time in his life, he wants another person enough to pursue them. He doesn't let himself overthink it too much; he just... does it. Leans over, presses his lips to Aaron's, and then pulls back to see what Aaron will do. 

Aaron smiles at him. He smiles so wide that his eyes crinkle and his cheeks go pink. "Wow." 

Carson licks his lips nervously. "Is that okay?" 

Aaron squeezes his hand. "More than okay." 

*

Sex with Aaron isn't like sex with that girl. 

It's a different kind of education but just as eye-opening as what he learns in books and classrooms. 

Aaron teaches him that sex is just about making each other feel good. The first time Aaron reaches over and gropes Carson through his pants, the first time he guides Carson's hand to his own hard on and lets Carson feel it through his jeans... the first handjob, the first blowjob, the first time Carson comes in his mouth. The first time he feels that hot splash of come on his stomach and the way he can't tear his eyes away from Aaron's scrunched up red face during it. The first time he goes to a store and buys lube and condoms with the actual intent of using him. (He's thrown away two unopened boxes past their expiration dates since he's lived in Chicago.) 

Once he starts having sex, he - predictably - wants to have a lot of it. That doesn't really happen, not with finals looking over him in under two months and their often conflicting work schedules. But Carson's fine with that, too, because sex doesn't become a defining point of their relationship. Sometimes even when Aaron's over they'll just kiss a little and Carson will be on his laptop and Aaron will watch tv or fall asleep against him. 

Sex is like punctuation at the end of a really wonderfully written sentence. It’s not the point or purpose but it gives it so much more meaning. It’s one more piece in a puzzle Carson thinks he’s starting to see the big picture of. 

He doesn’t realize that there are a couple of pieces that have fallen to the floor, but he will soon enough. 

*

Aaron has issues with impulse control and not planning ahead. 

It's equal parts liberating and infuriating. One day he talks Carson into a road trip, to this place Carson just has to see, and only after three hours on the road does he confess that he doesn't even have anywhere particular in mind. He's just been pointing to road signs. 

Carson does a u-turn on an empty road and doesn't talk to Aaron for half an hour.

When the silence breaks he asks, "Why?"

Aaron just shrugs. "I wanted to see where we ended up. Don’t you ever just want to get out and see what’s out there? There’s a whole fucking world and we just build our little nest in one spot and never even try to leave.” 

_That’s not true_ , Carson wants to say. _I left my nest._

But he realizes that Aaron might even still be right, because Carson always had his heart set on this school and this city and nowhere else held very much allure. He really was a cocky little shit, not having a single backup school. 

“Besides,” Aaron says, looking out the window now. “I thought it would be awesome to have a day where it was just us, in a car.” 

Carson looks over and sees Aaron’s profile, his crazy-messy hair, that obnoxious patterned jacket he seems to love so much. He sees a sad drawn quality to Aaron’s expression that he’s never spotted before. 

Has anyone ever liked being with him enough to not want to share him before? 

(One person, his traitorous mind supplies, remembering how his mother hid that letter.)

Carson turns the car back around, no longer headed in the direction of Chicago. 

Aaron looks at him, surprised. "What are you doing?" 

Carson looks over at him and shrugs. "Seeing where we end up."

*

Aaron doesn't show up for a lunch date one day. 

Carson is annoyed. He calls Aaron's phone and there's no answer. 

Some kind of paranoia begins to work in Carson. He realizes after six weeks that he knows a lot less about Aaron than Aaron does about him. Aaron has weaseled out his stories. He knows about Carson's dad and the other kid he has. He knows about Carson's mom and how he has talked to her once in four years. He knows about Carson's grandmother and how her funeral is the only time Carson has been back to Clover. 

But Aaron doesn't talk about his own family. Aaron doesn't tell Carson much of anything personal. He has this way of just turning the conversation without it being obvious he has until much later. 

He's slept through dates twice in the past two weeks. 

There have been a few times he hasn't responded to Carson's texts until the next day. Carson isn't a particularly clingy person, so he hasn't cared until now but in Carson, with the paranoia comes anger and he's never been one to hold off doing something about it. 

He drives to Aaron's apartment and knocks on the door. Aaron's roommates are the kind of imbeciles that Carson wouldn't normally give the time of day, but he doesn't often have to deal with them since Aaron usually comes over to his place. 

"Oh, dude, you're here. Sweet, I've got to split but I didn't want to leave him alone. He's been hurling his guts up all morning. I think he crashed now, but you know how he gets. You good to stay here for the afternoon?" 

"Yeah," Carson says. He's on autopilot, and that he has a class that afternoon doesn't even seem to matter. 

His stomach is in knots. 

He's only seen Aaron's room a couple of times. Aaron is usually ready when Carson picks him up. 

It's messy, a typical boy mess of clothes everywhere and video games stacked up. 

There are half a dozen prescription bottles on the bedside table, though. There's a bottle of water and two empty ones beside it, a package of crackers that hasn't even been opened, and a garbage can dragged close to the bed. The room smells stale and sour, like the nursing home used to smell. 

The smallest, most cowardly part of Carson wants to turn and leave and pretend he hasn't seen this. 

Instead he bends and starts to pick up clothes on the floor. 

* 

Carson can distantly remember grade school flu bouts when his mother would keep him home and take care of him. There weren’t many, but - a few. He remembers cartoons on the television and her making his favorite foods and washing his face with a cool cloth. 

He remembers it in a distantly comforting way, and maybe that’s why he starts to clean Aaron’s room as he waits on Aaron to wake up. Some instinct in him wants to make the room around him brighter and tidier. He opens a window to let in fresh air and moves on autopilot, piling laundry into the hamper and organizing the desk and straightening things on the bookshelf. 

He finally sits on the edge of the bed and reaches out to touch Aaron’s arm. The skin under his fingertips is slightly clammy. His chest goes tight and his eyes sting. He lowers himself to the other half of Aaron’s pillow and shuts his eyes tight, struggling against something he can’t put a name to. 

Ten minutes later, Aaron wakes up. 

*

"I liked that you never asked," Aaron says. He’s sitting up, sipping water gingerly from a bottle. "I thought maybe you knew something was up and you just didn't want to make me talk about it." 

"Sort of," Carson lies. It's less unkind for both of them. And maybe on a deeper level it's true. Maybe there's a reason he never pushed for more information than Aaron gave. "That's why you aren't in school?" 

"Yeah," Aaron says. "It's also why my whole family is pissed at me."

"Because you're sick?" Carson, despite his own issues with family, still has it in him to be appalled by that. 

"Because when I got sick I took off. I didn't want to die knowing I hadn't even lived." Aaron rubs his eyes. "I was twenty. I realized I hadn't done jack shit with my life. It sucked. If I’d stayed back home they would have babied me until I wished I wished I was dead." 

"So you moved to Chicago and got a job in a coffee shop?" 

"So I started _living_. I mean, my parents offered to send me to Italy or France or wherever I wanted to go. They're not exactly loaded but they were gonna find the money. I didn't want that, though. I just wanted to be able to say I had a life that wasn't in my parents basement." Aaron makes a face, mouth twisted with displease. “Don’t get me wrong, my folks love me and all, but I couldn’t go from a disappointment to a burden. Can you just imagine the Christmas card letter update for that one? Bee-tee-dubs, our kid - you know, the gay one - there’s like a thirty percent chance he’ll kick it this year.” 

"So you're dying," Carson says, quietly. He can't even begin to process this yet. His voice sounds just as blank as he feels. 

But Aaron - Aaron just laughs. "You're cute when you're being melodramatic. We're all dying, aren't we?" 

"Stop that," Carson says. "Stop - joking." 

"I'm not gonna die tomorrow," Aaron says. He reaches down and grabs Aaron's hand. "Or next week. Or probably even next month, unless I get hit by a bus.” 

_“Aaron-”_

“Okay! No busses.” Aaron’s laugh turns into a cough and Carson turns, alarmed. “Stop looking at me like that, okay? I’m really not about to die. The chemo is working. They might do surgery afterward but only if they have to. According to my doctor, I'm 'young and strong' - so the chemo might be kicking my ass but it's kicking cancer's ass, too." 

"How did I not realize that?" Carson wants to curl up in a very small little ball of misery and embarrassment. He looks over at Aaron and this time the words come more easily than they ever have. "I'm sorry." 

They're also more unnecessary than they've ever been. Aaron smiles. "Don't be. It's seriously kept me going this past month, that you didn't look at me like I'm gonna break or something." 

“What do you need from me?” Carson asks. In this moment, there’s very little he’ll tell Aaron know about. 

It hits him, like a punch to the stomach: this is what being in love feels like. 

“You didn’t sign on for this,” Aaron says. “If you want a get out of jail free card, it’s all yours. I’m not going to chain anyone down with me. I’m not dying but I’m gonna be sick as fuck for the next few months. It’ll be a total drag. I didn’t - in the beginning, I didn’t think I’d have a shot with you. And then we hit it off and - I still tried to not... I knew I’d have to tell you eventually but... I liked you too much. That’s... lame, isn’t it? I mean, it’s a shitty excuse, and I get it if you want to-” 

“If you think I’m breaking up with you for this,” Carson interrupts him, jaw set. He’s never done well when it comes to meeting the expectations other people have for him. He’s not about to let this be the first time, “then you are more of an idiot than I gave you credit for. Now please _tell me_ what I can do for you. What do you need?” 

Aaron stares at him in wonder and then laughs. “That’s all?” 

Maybe he _should_ be angry, Carson thinks. Maybe he should be furious. But deep down he’s just come to accept that bad shit will happen in his life. He meets an amazing person, the first person in his entire life that he wants to be with, and he’s on the verge of losing him just as Carson gets a handle on how he really feels. 

He remembers the smell of singed grass and thinks of all the opportunities in life that can be lost in the blink of an eye. If he survived high school and came through it intact, he can make it through this, too. “That’s all,” he confirms. 

Aaron laughs, a ridiculously happy sound, and leans his head on Carson’s shoulder. They stay like that for a few minutes but eventually Aaron shifts around and yawns. “I need to eat so I can take some more meds.” 

Carson thinks of his mother standing in his doorway with his lunch in her hands, fussing over him. 

“I can make soup,” he says. 

*

Carson has three weeks of college left, and he spends more time with Aaron than he does studying. He has time to work on papers while Aaron is at the doctor or sleeping those awful days where the treatment kicks his ass entirely. It pains Carson to watch the process, the way he’s only just recovered from feeling shitty from one round by the time the next one rolls around. 

It had taken less than a week for Carson to decide Aaron would be better off living with him. 

Aaron doesn’t put up much of a fight. He confesses eventually that his roommates had lots of parties and it was always awkward to be around them when he felt his worst. Carson does most of the packing up for him, but it takes less than a day. They leave the bed for the next person that comes along. Carson doesn’t even own a television, so Aaron’s gets put up in the bedroom so he has something to do when he just doesn’t have the energy to make it to the living room. 

Most of the time the anti-nausea medicine does it’s job. Only once does Carson get so nervous about how sick Aaron is that he thinks about taking Aaron to the hospital. It doesn’t even seem like his boyfriend, not this guy sitting on the bathroom floor with tears in his eyes. He seems furious, as furious as his depleted energy level will let him be. 

It’s the hardest night of Carson’s life, and it tests him in ways he hadn’t ever expected. Giving up never crosses his mind, though. He’s been left behind and abandoned before. 

He’s never been needed, though, and Aaron needs him. 

*

He’s sitting in his boxers with his laptop on his lap, typing furiously, when Aaron rolls over and looks at him. 

“I love you,” he says. 

Carson’s fingers skitter over the keys, producing a short line of gibberish. “What?” 

Aaron squirms over and uses a fingertip to push at the laptop until he can get his head on Carson’s thigh. He yawns and Carson reaches down to smooth his insane hair. “I said I love you.” 

“I love you, too,” Carson says. 

Aaron falls asleep again like that. Carson stares down at him and struggles to remember what his life was like six months ago. 

* 

Carson is sitting in the waiting room at the doctor’s office when he decides to call his mother. 

She answers on the third ring, dashing his fear (or was it hope?) that she might have changed her number since they’d last spoken. 

He takes a breath. “Hi, Mom.”


End file.
